


What Makes Us...Us

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot Spencer needs a hug, Eliot Spencer's Cooking, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hiatus fic, Introspection, Kindred Spirits, Light Angst, Protective Eliot Spencer, Season/Series 01, Sensible Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: As he tries to get himself back into the headspace of the bad-ass, 'I work alone' retrieval specialist, Eliot realizes that one special part of Team Leverage is going to be harder to shake than the others.





	What Makes Us...Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ultra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "Eliot & Parker getting to know each other better in the early days of the team (i.e. Season 1) and maybe getting together at that point." Well, I didn't *quite* do Season 1, and it's definitely left up to the reader whether they get together here or not, but I hope you like it Ultra.
> 
> And I hope you accept my apology for how long it took me to get here.

She wasn’t his problem. 

None of them were his problem anymore.

And yet, when he realized Parker was tailing him, Eliot didn’t immediately call her on it. She’d done it before – in the early days, while they were still circling each other, still trying to figure out what it meant to be a team, to belong to something.

_Someone._

While they were each still trying to figure out what it meant to care.

 _Fuck Nate and his mind games anyway._ All Eliot really wanted now was the time and space to purge himself of this “greater good” idealistic clap-trap he’d been infected with, so he could get back to the life he’d carved out for himself. It had been a good life. Maybe not the one his parents had envisioned for him, but certainly better than working himself to death in the mines of Oklahoma.

Better than thinking he could ever be the kind of person who was part of a team – a _family_ \- well, something greater than himself, at any rate. Those were ideas that had never taken him any place good for long.

She’d been watching him for about six weeks, watching his mood grow blacker and more frustrated even if she didn’t understand she was partly to blame for it. As long as she insisted on remaining in his awareness of the world, he couldn’t cut himself off like he needed to.

_And yet…_

Six weeks, three days, and roughly five hours. He was in the kitchen, trying to break through what was fast becoming full on emotional stagnation, when it occurred to him that the macaroni and cheese recipe he’d instinctively gravitated to was going to end up being much more than he would be able to eat on his own. On the surface it was one more in a long string of habits he was having to unlearn. If he didn’t watch himself his default was set to “family style” cooking now, resulting in enough food to feed four palettes in wildly differing stages of development.

“I made too much,” he said finally, pitching his voice to a normal, conversational tone as he kept his focus on the casserole dish. “This one doesn’t make good leftovers – the topping never tastes as good the second time.”

“Is it the crunchy kind?”

Ducking his head, Eliot twisted around to look at the young blond woman who had appeared in the doorway as if by magic. “Yep. You liked that one, didn’t you?”

Her eyes were wary, but she nodded. “Want to help me eat it?”

“You’re not going to make me eat vegetables, are you?”

Eliot almost smiled, because his hind-brain was screaming that she probably hadn’t had anything green and leafy since the last time he’d bartered her a cooked kale recipe he’d found for her favorite chocolate cake. Out loud all he said was, “Promise. Just the mac and cheese tonight. And milk.”

Deal struck, Parker visibly relaxed. In spite of himself, Eliot did too; feeling the tension ease from his shoulders for what felt like the first time in weeks. All the speeches he’d spent weeks rehearsing in his head were suddenly gone too, along with much of the need he’d felt to say them. The two of them moved around each other with a practiced ease – gathering dishes and utensils, setting the table, serving the food – and the quiet that wove its way around and through them as they worked was a revelation all on its own.

They were halfway through the meal when Parker finally spoke. Eliot had been half-expecting at that point that they would finish the entire evening in “companionable silence”. Clearly though, the thief had things she wanted (or needed) to say. Maybe they weren’t the same things he’d thought needed saying, but Eliot had promised himself months ago that he would never lie to Parker.

 _No matter how weird the questions get._ Surprisingly though, the first question she had for him was actually quite reasonable – especially for the thief.

“You told Nate you were going back to Europe,” she said, tilting her head slightly in an almost bird-like motion. “Why are you still here?”  
********************************************  
The sharp line he got between his eyebrows when his thoughts were really dark had almost disappeared. Parker didn’t like the line, but she understood it the same way she understood the sparks in her belly when the bad kind of danger was close. When she finally asked her question there was a moment between one breath and the next where she thought the line might be coming back, but it passed and then she could breathe again.

“I don’t want anyone else to know what we talk about here,” he said. “You get that?”

Strangely, she did. He’d been madder at Sophie than any of them when everything had gone wrong – even Nate. “You’re afraid they might try and talk you out of going back to being who you were.” She didn’t make it a question.

Parker watched as he considered what she’d said. _He looks like he’s tasting something new that he’s not sure of. I wonder if he knows he’s doing it?_ Out loud, Eliot said, “I don’t know if what we’ve been doing changed you. I think it did, but you’re the only one that can say if it did or it didn’t.”

She nodded. That was another thing Eliot was always doing that she’d never encountered before. He was always very careful not to assume what she was thinking or feeling.

She liked that.

“It changed me,” Eliot continued, when he was certain he had her attention. “Changed me into somebody who can’t just go back to doing what I did. I need time to get my head right before I try to go back.”

“That makes sense,” Parker said, chasing a curl of macaroni around her plate before finally spearing it with her fork. “Unless you don’t really want to go back to being that person. Hardison said he’s not going back. Says he can’t. I don’t think Sophie’s going back either.”

Eliot’s mouth twisted in a way Parker had learned was one of his smiles – but not necessarily a happy smile. “It’s not the same.” There was a dark intensity in his eyes as he looked at her now. “You get that, right?”  
***************************************  
She was broken – in a different way than he was, to be sure – but from that first night he’d recognized a kindred spirit. The others had tried to change her in various ways. Sophie in particular had taken it as a sort of personal crusade to ‘fix’ Parker; make it so the thief could work and move in normal society. On a purely intellectual level, Eliot could understand the merits of Parker being able to take on that persona, but his own experiences told him that no matter how talented Sophie was at her craft, some people couldn’t be fixed.

Helping Parker understand that even broken she was valuable had become his own personal crusade. Unlike Sophie, or in their own ways Nate and Hardison, his battle had been waged quietly; often when the two of them were alone.

 _And here we are,_ his own brain helpfully supplied. _Very alone._ “I’ve tried to change before,” he said finally, acutely aware that the silence between them had gone on longer than was probably wise. “It never works out.”

The thief nodded, her expression uncharacteristically solemn. “I tried to think of something I could do besides stealing things, but nothing felt right.” Before Eliot could find the words to respond to that she added, “Except I decided I was going to be more careful about what I stole and who I stole it from.” Her eyes focused on him, and suddenly it was all Eliot could do not to physically draw back from her. “You could try to be more careful about who you work for. Maybe don’t take jobs where you kill people.” She paused again, her expression softening slightly. “I don’t think you like those jobs anyway. Even if the money is better.”

A prepared litany of reasons why the world needed people like him who were able to pull the trigger, able to put down the people who needed putting down spilled into his brain, but out loud all Eliot said was, “It’s getting late. You can sleep here tonight if you want. I’ll take the couch.”

“What’s wrong with your bed? It’s big enough for both of us.”

 _Goddammit, you will not make me blush!_ he thought fiercely, ducking his head and blowing out a quiet breath as he struggled for control. “Parker,” he began, when he could trust himself not to laugh or cry, “I don’t share my sleeping space well. I get nightmares and sometimes I forget where I am.” _Not to mention I seem to remember something about you preferring to sleep naked?_

She was smiling at him again, and suddenly Eliot found himself wondering when he’d lost control of the evening. “Everything’s always so messy with you.” Leaning in, she kissed him.

Eliot froze. It was gentle and sweet – almost nothing to the physical act itself – but he knew he would have been less surprised in that moment if she’d bitten him. Every muscle in his arms was twitching with the need to reach out for her, draw her in, continue whatever she might have inadvertently started…but he forced himself to remain still, to let her keep deciding what and how and when.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she pulled back from him – just far enough for them to see each other again. “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed. If you forget where you are, I’ll remind you. It’ll be fine.”

Straightening up, she reached out and took his hand in hers. “We’ll be fine.”

He had no logical reason for believing her, but Eliot let himself be drawn to his feet and led to the bedroom anyway.


End file.
